Addicted to Love
by Tigereye77
Summary: One case. One song. One dance. Sometimes that's all it takes for Hotch and Emily to realize what they really want and need.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Inspired by some Tweeting on Twitter, it was supposed to be a PWP story, but dang if Hotch and Emily didn't have other ideas. They actually demanded that there be some type of emotional thread, plot, structure behind this. So while there will be 'naughty bits', our two serious agents insisted on some dramatic storytelling. At most a three-shot, but I'm thinking it'll just be a two-shot. It depends on how I split the second part. Hope you enjoy. Also, don't forget you have less than a week to vote in the Profiler's Choice Awards. **The final ballot is at forum. fanfiction. net/topic /74868/ 51253709/1/ (just eliminate the spaces to make the link work). Voting ends November 30th. ****

She wasn't anywhere to be found and Hotch had to fight down that initial wave of panic he felt rise up in him when he couldn't locate her and she didn't answer her cell phone. Of course he didn't know where she was every second of the day, no matter how much he desperately wanted. He didn't know what she did away from the office unless he happened to overhear her plans: recertification training with Morgan, drinks with JJ, shopping with Garcia. He sometimes knew, but there were many hours unaccounted for and those times preyed on him. What was she doing? Was she okay? Would he see her the next morning or would she be gone?

But this was an entirely different situation. They were in a strange city, just having finished up a case that rattled him more than he had showed to his team and wanted to admit to himself.

They were in Birmingham after a serial killer targeting brunette exotic dancers. They had all been young, beautiful, fit women who had reminded Hotch far too much of another young, beautiful brunette who's fit body he had noticed all too much.

And now that beautiful brunette was missing.

The others had decided to go out for drinks, glad that the case was finally over. Emily and Hotch had declined. Hotch had thought she would be in her room, but when he knocked to ask if she wanted to grab some dinner, there had been no answer. He thought she might be in the shower and called her room about 20 minutes later and then her cell phone. She answered neither one and she wasn't in the hotel restaurant or bar. After a moment's hesitation, he went up to her room and knocked on her door several more times before he came to a decision.

As a precaution, Hotch made certain he had a master key to each of his team member's hotel rooms when on a case. He had never had to use it before, but he did now.

"Prentiss?" he called out as he opened the door. She had left a lamp burning and he moved further into the room. He could see immediately that it was empty and he saw the suit she had been wearing that day neatly laid over the back of a chair.

Hotch frowned, knowing she hadn't accompanied the others because he had seen them off personally and she hadn't been with them. So where was she?

He knew she hadn't been to Birmingham before and knew no one in town but the local law enforcement they had dealt with on the case. Hotch's fist tightened reflexively when he thought of those men. He had seen how some of the local officers had looked at his beautiful agent, their eyes leisurely traveling over her long, lean form, fantasizing what was underneath those conservative suits. Was she with one of them? She hadn't seemed interested, or even seemed to have noticed she was being admired by the hordes of men involved in this case.

Because the victims had all been exotic dancers, there were a lot of men involved in this case. Not only with the officers involved, but the witnesses and suspects they had to interview. Customers who frequented the strip clubs, the employees, managers and bouncers, and the relatives, nearly all of them male. And Emily had been in the midst of those men who simply saw women as objects. They had looked at her the same way they looked at those dancers. It had infuriated Hotch and it took every ounce of self-control to remain professional and allow Emily to do her job. All he wanted to do was protect her from them and their hungry eyes.

As these noble feelings of wanting to protect Emily rose up within him, so did his own self-loathing because the reason behind his feelings were far from noble. JJ had also garnered some attention, but he didn't feel that need to shelter her like he did with Emily. That urge that made him want to protect Prentiss from these other men, it was his jealousy, possessiveness. He wanted to show these hungry men they couldn't have her because she was with him. She was his and pity the man who tried to touch her. But he had no right to claim her. He was like the other men, simply admiring and desiring her from afar.

He tried her cell phone again. She still didn't pick up.

She was a grown woman. A trained FBI agent. Hell, a trained CIA agent who was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was probably the last person who's safety he had to be worried about. But then he remembered the photos of brunette victims and he was dialing Garcia's number.

"Oh Captain, my Captain, what can I do for you?" came Garcia's cheery voice.

"Garcia, I need you to track Emily's phone and let me know where it is."

"Emily's phone?" Garcia's queried. A note of concern crept into her voice. "Why am I tracking Em's phone? Is she okay?"

"Garcia, I'm just trying to locate her. Can you get a fix on her phone?" Hotch said in a soothing tone. He didn't mean to frighten the tech analyst but he knew this was the fastest way to find Emily.

After a minute, Garcia had located the signal and sent the coordinates to Hotch's cell. He thanked her and assured her he would call her as soon as he found Prentiss. Without wasting another moment, Hotch hurried downstairs to the other SUV. He made a note that it was there. They were only assigned two vehicles which meant that Emily either took a cab, walked, or was taken somewhere. Hotch's mouth thinned into a grim line. He hoped she took a cab somewhere.

The coordinates took him to downtown Birmingham to a quiet street filled with small, independent businesses. It was early evening and most of the places were closed or closing, though a few restaurants and bars were doing a brisk business. The address on his phone led him to a two story building. The downstairs was a bicycle shop that was dark and closed. The second floor rooms had lights on. Hotch parked and got out of the car, pausing in front of the building for a moment. His eyebrows went up when he saw the sign for the second story business.

An arrow led him to the side of the building where a staircase led up to the second floor. He quickly mounted the steps to a door that was unlocked. He opened the door and stepped inside. He could hear a woman singing, the lyrics vaguely familiar, but sung in a slow, seductive pace, different from the hard rock beat he typically associated with the song.

_The lights are on,_

_But you're not home,_

_Your mind, is not your own._

_Your heart sweats,_

_Your body shakes,_

_Another kiss, is all it takes!_

_You can't sleep,_

_You can't eat,_

_There's no doubt,_

_You're in deep._

_Your throat is tight,_

_You can't breathe,_

_Another kiss, _

_Is all you need._

_Oooh, you'd like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah._

_It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough_

_You're gonna have to face it_

_You're addicted to love!_

Slowly, Hotch made his way down a narrow hallway, the sound of the music getting louder as he neared the room at the end. He looked through the open doorway and stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide and his brain not quite functioning when he saw what was going on before him.

Emily was alone in the room, dressed in a tight, red exercise tank and black yoga pants. She was barefoot and her hair streamed out behind her in silky waves. Hotch watched as her hips swayed sensuously from side to side, one hand grasping the silvery pole in the middle of the room. She started a slow walk around the pole and then suddenly hooked one leg around it and twirled herself around, lifting her other foot off the ground as she spun on the pole.

Hotch watched in stunned surprise as she continued to move with catlike grace around the pole, using the pole, showing off an impressive amount of strength and flexibility. His surprise slowly melted into admiration which quickly slipped into desire as he watched what was developing into an erotic, sensual performance. Each move was filled with sinuous grace, a burning layer of eroticism and sexuality as she dipped, stretched and wrapped herself around the phallic symbol that cut through the center of the room. Hotch had never been so jealous of an inanimate object as he was right now watching Emily grasp the pole with both hands so she could leap up and wrap those long legs around it, her sex pressed against the cool, metal surface. Yep, he had pole jealousy as he watched her cradle it between her thighs.

He felt his gut tighten and a warmth spread through his body as he continued to watch the beautiful woman perform for him alone. A flicker of guilt filled him because she wasn't performing for him, he was invading her private moment, but that one flash of conscience disappeared as more primal desires took over and overwhelmed him. He was so caught up in watching Emily that he didn't notice the muffled ring of his cell phone.

"You'd better get it. It might be important," Emily said as she did a slow turn around the pole.

Hotch started out of his lust-filled daze and realized Emily had known he was standing there the entire time, watching her, and letting him watch her. Hastily, he reached for his cell phone and snapped out a crisp, "Hotchner."

"Oh sir," Garcia's worried voice came over the line. "Did you find her? Emily. Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Hotch replied, his eyes still locked on the woman in question as she bent over, offering him a delectable view of her pert, toned ass and then slowly she straightened up, arching her back. "I've found her. She's okay."

He heard Garcia sigh in relief and she cheerfully bid her boss a goodbye, secure in the knowledge that her friend was in good hands. His hands.

Right now, Hotch really wanted Emily in his hands. In his bed. In his life.

He hung up and slipped the cell phone back into his pocket. During his entire conversation with Garcia, Emily had continued with her routine, still graceful, still sensuous, still eliciting wave, after wave of desire from Hotch.

During this last case he had looked upon the men who visited the strip clubs to watch the dancers with a certain amount of disdain. He had been raised to respect and honor women and these men had reduced them to mere objects to gratify their sexual fantasies and in the case of their Unsub to force them into his.

But here he was, doing the same to a woman he had known for years, wanting her to star in his own sexual fantasies. Hotch realized thought, that she had been the main star of such fantasies for quite a while. Right now she was bringing some of them to vivid life.

"Someone worried about me?" Emily asked as she finally stopped her routine and walked over to a chair where he could see a gym bag with a towel draped half in and half out of it. She bent over slightly to pick up the towel, the fabric of her yoga pants stretching over her ass once more, highlighting the curve of it and sending another jolt of pure desire through Hotch.

He cleared his throat and walked over to her, deliberately keeping his gaze up at a more respectable level, but nearly groaned when he took in her slightly damp skin that glowed in the soft light of the room, her flushed cheeks and those bottomless dark eyes that looked up at him inquiringly.

"Garcia," he replied. "When I couldn't reach you and found out you weren't at the hotel, I became worried and had her trace your phone."

Emily frowned. "Couldn't reach me?" She bent over her bag again and began to rummage through it, finding her phone and letting out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry. I had it on vibrate. I forgot to switch it back after we took down the Unsub." She gave him an inquiring look. "Is something wrong? Why were you looking for me?"

Why was he looking for her? Hotch blinked as he tried to remember what started his hunt because he didn't want to tell her that he was really driven by the fear that she had disappeared from his life once again. He didn't want to reveal that when he couldn't find her his stomach had dropped and blind panic threatened to overwhelm him as he was transported back to ten months ago and when he turned around in the BAU bullpen and she was gone. He wouldn't see her again until days letter, lying on the dirty floor of a cold warehouse, bloody, broken and almost dead. He didn't want to tell her about his irrational fear that the Unsub they arrested that afternoon might have targeted her because she too much like his victim of choice, brunette, beautiful, lithe. He couldn't say any of that to her, though it was what had made him hunt her down.

She was waiting for his answer, her deep, dark eyes looking inquiringly at him.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite to eat," he finally said. "I knew you didn't go with the others, and thought you might be hungry. Then when I couldn't find you, couldn't reach you, I became worried."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't worry about it." He paused. "I think we all need to learn to adjust."

Her eyes became contrite and she dropped her head. "I'm sorry I've forced you to think that way."

"It's not your problem, Emily, it's ours. Mine." They were heading into dangerous territory. She was berating herself for what happened with Doyle and how it's changed how they looked at her, worried about her, and he was revealing far more than he had intended. All he wanted to do was find his missing agent and make sure she was safe and she was. Or was now. He wasn't too happy with the apparent lax precautions she took with her safety.

"How did you know about this place?" he asked as he looked around.

"I've been taking pole dancing lessons for a little over a month now. My instructor has a friend here and suggested I get in touch with her if I wanted a workout while in town. I did and here I am."

"Alone," he commented. He turned irritated eyes towards her. "You're here alone and the front door was unlocked. Anyone could have walked in."

She gave him a pointed look. "Obviously someone did."

"That wasn't safe, Prentiss," he snapped out. "Dammit, we've just caught a man killing exotic dancers and you what do you do? Go to a studio, alone, in the evening and leave the front door unlocked. You should be more aware."

"I knew you were there the entire time, Hotch," she snapped back.

"And if it wasn't me? What if it was someone who was intent on harming you? Your back was turned. Your bag on the other side of the room. Would you have been able to reach it in time to get your gun?" He was getting progressively angrier, his words coming out in harsher tones as each new scenario of what could have happened to her if someone else had walked into that room and not him. Watching her dance, he had to fight the urge to grab her and have his way with her, what if he was a different type of man? What if he was one of those men who went to those clubs and watched these women entice and tease, but only here, there was no unspoken barriers, no bouncer to come between the women and the lascivious hordes. She would have been vulnerable and she could have been hurt, defiled, killed.

He didn't know who he was angrier with, Emily for putting herself into such a dangerous situation or the imaginary deviants who may have considered harming her if he hadn't come along. Or himself for knowing his anger was stemming from something more than just concern over her welfare.

"I can take care of myself," Emily said as she started to move back to the pole. She gripped the pole with one hand and then spun around it slowly. "You keep forgetting I'm a former CIA operative. I can handle myself."

He stepped into her path, stopping her slow turn around the pole. "I haven't forgotten," he said softly. He stared at her for several long heartbeats and she stared back at him, not flinching from his gaze. Finally he nodded at the pole. "Why did you take up the dancing?"

"Its great exercise," Emily said as she let go of the pole to move around him.

"Somehow I don't think that's why you've started doing it," Hotch replied. She had started another slow walk around the pole but stopped when she heard his words. Her back was turned to him, but he could see the slight tensing of her shoulders. Hotch moved closer to her until he could feel the heat radiating off her body, burning through his clothes and scorching his skin. "Emily, talk to me."

There were several more seconds of silence, but without turning around, Emily began to talk. "After Doyle," she began haltingly. "After what he did to me. The branding, the stabbing, remembering everything I went through when I was undercover. Having him touch me again." She shivered and Hotch's hands twitched to reach out and touch her, but he held them down by his sides, curling them into fists in an attempt to control them and the overwhelming anger whenever he heard Doyle's name.

"I felt…unattractive. Less of a woman. I don't know, I thought maybe something like this would help me feel differently. Get back in touch with my sensuality. Feel like a woman again. Maybe prove to myself that I could be attractive as me, scars and all." Her hands had moved in front of her, and Hotch knew she was picking at her nails, a nervous habit she had yet to overcome.

His hands came up then and he placed them gently on her shoulders. "Emily," his voice rumbled deep in his chest and he felt her shiver again and that pleased him, making him wonder if he was having that affect on her or was she simply cold. Reflexively, his hands started to massage her shoulders. "I don't think you need to prove anything to anyone."

She stepped away from him and his touch. Emily turned around and looked up at him. She was in her bare feet and Hotch was struck by how much shorter than he she really was. He had always thought her a tall woman, but right now she looked petite and delicate as she stood before him without her heeled boots.

"That's a nice thought, but you know as well as I do that after something like Doyle, there's bound to be some residual effects." Unconsciously she started to rub her abdomen where the scar from her wound laid. "And it's different for everyone."

"Has it helped?" he asked quietly, pleased and honored she was letting him see into her mind like this. He had made a few attempts to get her to talk, but she had neatly deflected all of his efforts. He knew she hadn't spoken to any of the others of her fears and concerns either. He suspected this was the first time she's ever verbalized them.

Emily shrugged. "I don't know. I just usually get a lesson or practice in front of my instructor. My female instructor," she noted wryly. She sighed. "I doubt I'm turning her on and if I am, she's not the demographic I was thinking of." She sighed again. "Well, at least it's keeping me in shape."

Hotch had to agree with her. If this was her main source of exercise, the pole dancing was keeping Emily in very good shape. The words slipped out before he realized what he was saying. "I guess you haven't noticed almost every man stares at you wherever you go." Hotch clamped his mouth shut.

Emily looked at him with incredulous eyes. "What?"

Hotch sighed his regrets in saying anything being overwhelmed by his continued surprise that as a profiler, Emily was so oblivious of the reaction she could elicit in men. But then again, considering what she had gone through and the mental and emotional turmoil she had experienced, Hotch could understand her getting too far into her own head space and not realize the looks of admiration and lust directed at her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked as she took a step closer to him, her head tilted slightly to one side, a curious look in her eyes.

"You didn't see the looks the local police officers were giving you during this case?" Hotch asked with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head gently. "Especially, Smith, the lead detective. When he first saw you, I swear his jaw dropped to his knees." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You're a beautiful woman, Emily. I don't think you ever have to worry about being attractive to men."

The smile didn't quite reach her eyes and he knew she wasn't convinced. "Thanks, Hotch." Her hand went to her stomach again. "But they only see the outside. I'm sure they would feel differently if they got too close."

She started to move past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "If they knew you, truly knew you, Emily, they would think you were the most beautiful woman they've ever met."

He had gone too far, revealed too much, but he couldn't bear to see her consumed with doubt and insecurity. If it meant going out on that limb, he would do it. For her, he would do anything. When she raised her dark eyes to look into his, Hotch prepared himself for embarrassment, anger, disgust, some emotion that told him that he had crossed the line with her. But when he looked into her eyes, he was surprised by what he saw.

Softness. Curiosity. Hunger.

Hotch felt his mouth go dry as she stared back at him. Several heart beats passed before she said in a low voice.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

He moved closer to her, stepping into her space so closely that her full breasts brushed against his chest. He could smell her unique Emily scent heightened by the heat her body had generated during her workout.

"I know how beautiful you are," he murmured. "And every day, when I first see you, I think you've grown even more beautiful."

Their eyes locked with each other. The studio was completely silent save for their quiet breathing. Hotch wasn't certain how long they stood there, their eyes revealing to the other what they've been scared to say with words. Emily finally licked her lips and said in a whisper.

"Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything," Hotch murmured, his head dropping closer to the top of her head so he could smell her fragrant hair.

"Watch me dance."

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><p><strong>AN 2: The song is "Addicted to Love" as performed by Florence & the Machine.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Meh, I guess you can say there's a plot to this. Smut. That's a plot, isn't it? Thanks for your patience for this part. After this, just one more part, smuttier than this one!**

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><p>Emily couldn't believe she had just asked Hotch to watch her pole dance, but somehow, she knew they had gone beyond colleagues, friendship and entered a new phase of their relationship, one that was more intimate, that called for a greater amount of trust. She was trusting him now.<p>

The one reason only her instructor had seen her dance, the reason she had persuaded the owner of this studio to allow her to practice alone, was because she was scared to let anyone watch her. It wasn't her ability or inexperience that had her shy, but it was knowing that whoever watched her, would see a side of her she let very few people see. A vulnerability she did not like to admit, let alone show. It was more than doing a sensual dance for Hotch, it was a major leap of faith and trust, something she didn't give or do easily. She looked up at him nervously.

A smile curled around Hotch's lips. "You want to dance for me?" he murmured as he moved closer and brushed his nose lightly against her hair.

Relief and something else filled her body. She hummed in response and she was so close, he could feel the slight vibrations she made on his neck. "Mmmm, hmmmm. I've never danced for a man before. I want to dance for you." She pulled back slightly so she could look into his face. She looked at him with a sly, teasing expression though her cheeks were colored with a hint of pink. "I'd like to hear what you think. You only saw a little bit of my routine."

Hotch stepped back from her and removed her gym bag from the chair it rested on and sat down in the empty seat. He watched as Emily picked up her iPod and started the song he had heard when he first entered the studio.

The singer's mournful voice came out a little tinny but loudly on the small iPod and Emily did a slow walk around the pole, one hand grasping it. Hotch watched as her hips swayed to the sensuous pace of the song. Emily leaned against the pole and slid down to a low crouch before sliding herself back up. As the music began and the song's pace increased, so did her movements, graceful and cat-like.

There was strength, yet elegance and a delicacy to her motions. Hotch admired and appreciated the beauty of her dance, the skill and power it took, but he was also a man and with each spin, each bend, each sway of that magnificent body, he could feel himself reacting to her on the most primal and basest level. Hotch found himself hardening as he watched her with avid eyes.

He looked at her face and saw she was transported to another world, a world where there was no ugliness, no killers, no fear. A world she was free to let go, to be safe and Hotch realized he wanted to be in that world with her.

He stood up suddenly and walked the few steps until he was right next to her, surprising Emily and halting her movements. She looked up at him with startled and questioning eyes and then felt him wrap his hand around the one she had on the pole. Emily felt the hard metal of the pole dig into her back and buttocks as Hotch pressed her closer to it as he lifted up her other hand to join the one on the pole and pinned both with one of his. As he leaned against her, she could feel his erection pressing between them and her eyes fluttered at the sensation.

Hotch allowed a small grin to cross his face as he watched her reaction to his obvious desire for her. He lifted his other hand and gently trailed a finger down one cheek. Her eyes shot open and she looked up at him with surprise in her eyes. Slowly, his finger traveled down her face, to her jaw. It traced the outline of her lips, moved over her chin and down her throat.

He paid special attention to her collar bones, lightly going over the skin that stretched across them. A thin sheen of perspiration was layered over her skin, making her glow in the warm light and making her flesh moist to his touch. A bolt of desire shot straight to his cock feeling that dampness, knowing she was wet somewhere else, a place he intended to get to very soon.

His fingers moved to the top of her exercise tank, trailing on the edge of it before they moved down to lightly brush against her breasts. Emily jerked at the sensation, her hips bucking against his and drawing a low growl from Hotch as his erection pressed deeper into her soft body.

His hand fluttered gently over her breast, teasing the side and underside of one as his thumb grazed against one hardened nipple, causing it to stiffen even more. His smile was feral when he heard her soft whimper.

Moving down her ribs lightly, he came to the waistband of her yoga pants. For a moment, he simply massaged one hip, rubbing small circles around it, soothing and caressing her, causing her to arch more towards him. Then his hand moved to the front of her and without warning, slipped between her slightly parted thighs where he cupped her, feeling the dampened material of her pants.

Her moan was louder this time and Emily arched away from the pole, her hands still pinned above her head by Hotch's other hand. His hand was so large that she automatically widened her stance to allow him more room. With a gentle motion he began to rub her, the friction of her pants and panties only making the ache between her legs worse.

"Hotch," she said in a breathless whisper.

"Aaron," he corrected gently with a small kiss to her temple.

He removed his hand and she whimpered until she felt it slip down the waistband of her pants and under panties. He grazed the damp curls covering her sex and she felt one thick, calloused finger penetrate her.

Emily let out a low keen and her hips jerked violently with the invasion. Slowly, he moved his finger in and out of her, watching as she undulated to the pace he set. One more finger and then another joined the first, and she was riding his hand, just how he wanted her to ride his agonizingly hard cock.

She raised and lowered her self on her toes, her back and buttocks sliding up and down the pole as Hotch fucked her with his fingers. Sweat damped her skin and in the warm air of the studio, sex scented the air. Her breath came out in soft, little gasps, an accompaniment to the mournful singing of the woman on Prentiss' iPod.

Her eyes closed as he pleasured her. Her mouth was slightly open as she panted and Hotch thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He curled his fingers and she cried out sharply, pressing herself hard against his hand. He increased his pace, twisting and scissoring his skillful fingers until she was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Aaron! Aaron! I-, I-," she couldn't form a coherent thought.

"Come for me, Emily," he whispered in a voice they both barely recognized, so dark and dangerous it sounded. "I want you to come hard for me."

His finger tapped the bundle of nerves that sent violent tremors through her. Two more taps and she was bucking wildly against his hand. A hard stroke and Emily cried out his name as she shattered around his fingers, her muscles clenching tightly around his fingers.

As she came back to Earth, Emily found herself leaning heavily against Hotch's body. Her hands were released and they hung limply by her sides. He held her to him with one hand and when she looked up at him he showed her his other hand, glistening with her essence. Slowly, he touched his wet fingers to his lips and licked, letting out a low moan as he tasted her.

"So good," he murmured.

Desire filled her body and she knew she would die if she didn't have him. She could feel his hardened cock pressing insistently against her belly. Turn about was fair and she reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. She looked up at him in confusion.

"Not here," he murmured. "I want you in my bed, naked and stretched out where I can taste every inch of you."

She shivered at the heated look in his eyes and the dark desire in his voice. For a second, she hesitated. Here in the studio, it was unreal, safe. The second they left, to go back to the hotel, it meant entering their world again with all its complications. How would they handle it? What would it all mean? Where would they-?

Her thoughts scattered and fled as Hotch swooped down to kiss her hard on her mouth, his tongue snaking between her lips and teasing and tasting her. He had seen the doubt begin to creep into her eyes and decided to stop them before they overwhelmed her. Yes, there were going to be consequences to what they were about to do, but in his mind, they've already crossed that line of no return and he had no regrets. He needed to show Emily that she shouldn't have them either and to take that leap with him.

He pulled back to look into her glazed eyes and asked her to do what she had asked of him earlier when she asked him to watch her dance:

"Trust me?"

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><p><strong>AN 2: Oh yes, Hotch did all that before he even kissed her! But I think he probably has very talented fingers that were just itching to be used. If you have a moment, I'd appreciate it if you could leave a review. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience on this story. It was meant to be a pure smut piece but of course with Hotch and Emily, they have to make it all about the angst and emotional stuff as well. Why can't these two characters just indulge in the physical? Here is the final part and I hope folks enjoy it.**

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><p>"Trust me?"<p>

Hotch's gaze was as intense as Emily had ever seen it. He waited patiently for her answer. She knew he would end whatever they were doing right here and now if she said no. He would never force her into anything she was uncomfortable with; the decision was hers alone.

And what would it be? If she stepped out of this studio with Hotch and went back to his hotel room with him, if she allowed him to make love to her, everything between them, everything she had known and fought hard to get back while the shadow of Doyle loomed over her, would be gone. It would transform into something else, something unknown. That was what scared her: the unknown. Hotch was not like any man she had known before. It wouldn't be casual. It wouldn't be short-lived. It would be intense, demanding; far more intimate than any relationship she had ever had. He wouldn't let her hide away anything. He wouldn't allow her to hold a part of herself back, compartmentalize. Hotch would demand total commitment because it was the only way he did things. Was she ready for it? Could she take that step?

He sensed her uncertainty and while he would let her decide, it didn't mean he wouldn't try to influence her in some small way. His head dipped down and he said softly into her ear,

"You can trust me."

Emily closed her eyes as his breath tickled her neck, the slight stubble on his cheek rasping against her smooth one. She knew that. She had always known that. But sometimes, she just needed to hear him say it, to hear that strong, deep reassuring voice of his so she could _believe _it to be true. Because far too often, Emily Prentiss had believed and been betrayed.

She turned her head. He had not moved his. Her lips were close to his and she whispered one word, "Yes."

Then she lightly pressed her mouth to his, a butterfly kiss that was sweet to Hotch, but was more intense than anything he had experienced before because he felt her giving him something precious and fragile and he knew he would guard it with his life. Forever.

Her trust. Her heart. Herself.

With that last step, Hotch was galvanized into action and he became his usual efficient, methodical self. He pulled away from Emily and picked up her jacket and shoes, placing the latter before her. He helped her into the jacket and fixed her collar before zipping her up into it. She stared at him in bemusement, allowing him to even bend over and nudge her feet into the sneakers she had worn to the studio. Zipped up and protected from the cold evening air and her feet shod, Hotch then quickly gathered her personal belongings, placed them neatly in her gym bag and zipped it shut. He picked it up in one hand and with the other took Emily by her arm and led her out of the studio.

"Do you have a key?" he asked when they stood in the doorway.

Emily shook her head. "It locks automatically. All I have to do is pull the door shut."

Hotch nodded and while Emily waited on the steps that led down to the street, he switched off the studio lights and firmly closed the door behind them, jiggling the knob to make sure it was locked and then followed Emily down to the sidewalk where he joined her. He slipped a hand around her waist, intent on keeping some physical contact with her, to reassure her and himself. Now that he could, he couldn't stop touching her and he was afraid she might still feel some lingering doubts and hesitancy.

He led her to the SUV and helped her in before sliding into the driver's seat. He started the car and smoothly pulled out into traffic. He glanced over at her where she sat watching him with a bemused expression on her face. Hotch smiled, picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to it. That elicited a smile from her and he rested her hand on his thigh, his hand covering it, keeping that connection between them.

They made it back to the hotel and Hotch quickly parked and got out of the car, hurrying over to Emily's side and helping her out of the SUV before she could step out herself. He was determined to keep physically connected to her as much as possible. She sensed what he was doing and lifted amused and knowing eyes up to his face causing him to blush slightly. He offered her a small shrug.

"I like touching you," he said simply.

She gave him a sweet smile. "I like you touching me."

He wanted to ravish her right there in the parking lot, but this was going to be done right. He hadn't wanted to take her up against a pole in some strange studio, though he hadn't been able to resist making her come with his fingers. He just had to be able to watch the beautiful expressions on her face as he gave her pleasure, knowing he was the reason for the ecstasy she was experiencing. However, when they finally were one, he intended it to be in the privacy of his room, behind a lock door, where they could do to each other as they wished and she could come hard and wrapped around him.

Repeatedly if he had any say, which he did.

With her small hand tucked in his much larger one, Hotch led her to a side door and the elevator. They rode up in silence, hands still clasped and arms pressed against each other. Their rooms happened to be on the same floor, but he led her to his, pausing to fish out his key card and he swiped it through the lock.

He opened the door and allowed her to go in before him. He then closed the door behind them and threw the deadbolt, effectively and soundly locking the rest of the world out.

The sound of the lock sliding home startled Emily and she turned around to look at him. Hotch walked towards her, dropping her gym bag on the floor and stepping up until their chests almost brushed against each other. One hand rose and he gently pushed back a strand of her hair before he allowed his fingers to glide down the smooth planes of her face, as though he was memorizing by touch her features.

His hand cupped her cheek and he gently drew her towards him as he lowered his head for a kiss. He was a gentle kiss again, like their first one, but unlike that one, it quickly morphed into something more passionate, fiercer and consuming. Their tongues dueled for supremacy and Hotch's hands were tangled in her hair as he held her close to him. Emily grasped the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him towards her.

Their bodies began to sway from side to side as if dancing to the rhythm of their beating hearts. With no fumbled movements, no hesitation, they moved in unison, a synchronicity that they only knew with each other. Their dance continued as they slowly moved towards the bed.

When her legs hit the bed, Emily fell backwards onto it, dragging Hotch down with her. He caught himself on his arms in time so his full weight didn't fall on her. She let out a breathy laugh that sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin as he stared down into her flushed face with her kiss-swollen lips.

He took a moment to simply take in her beauty and once again, his fingers began to lightly trace her features. Hotch didn't think he would ever grow tired of looking into her face and from this moment forward, he swore it would be the last face he saw before he slept and the first face he saw when he woke.

His fingers went to the zipper of her jacket and slowly, he pulled it down. He moved slightly off of her so she could prop herself up and take off the jacket. She dropped it off the side of bed and once again Hotch claimed her lips. Gentle, sensual, his kiss made Emily's toes curl and her body to arch into Hotch as her hand wrapped around his neck to hold him to her.

Hotch moved away and smiled down at her. His fingers trailed over her bare shoulder and then he sat up, bring her up with him. He reached for the bottom of her exercise tank and he looked inquiringly at her. He saw the expression on her face.

He gave her a soft look. "It's okay," he said quietly.

Emily swallowed the thick lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. "The scars…"

"We all have them, Em," he continued. "They're apart of you. And you are beautiful. The scars can never take that away."

"The brand," her voice was a broken whisper.

"Means you won," Hotch said quietly, but firmly, hiding the unspeakable rage he had against the man who had hurt her so much. "You fought Doyle and you won, Emily. You're here and he's gone." He lifted the edge of her tank a scant inch. "Please?"

Slowly, she nodded. Emily held her breath as he gently pulled the tight tank up and over her head until it too was being dropped over the side of the bed. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look of horror and disgust that must surely be on Hotch's face. She felt the tips of his calloused fingers trace the brand on her breast, just one of the marks that Ian Doyle left on her.

She swallowed again, expecting Hotch to remove his hand and then his person from the room, but instead, he caressed her breast, cupping it and stroking it. She couldn't help the moan of pleasure that escaped from her lips.

"God, you're so beautiful," she heard him say in a low growl.

Emily's eyes flew opened and she saw the look of hunger in his eyes. She stared at him in surprise and he grinned wolfishly at her. Not disgust, not horror, not even pity. All that she saw in his eyes and face was lust, passion and love. For her. For her scars. His strokes became firmer, stronger, sending sharp waves of pleasure streaking through Emily's body and causing her breaths to come out in soft hitches.

"Beautiful," he said again. "Mine." The last word was said in a possessive growl before he lowered his head and took the breast with the brand on it into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the sensitive flesh. His hand came to the other breast, while the other supported her back.

Emily arched towards him. She swung her leg around so she was straddling him, settled on his lap, her hands resting behind her on the bed, propping her up. She couldn't help moving her hips, pressing her core against the hard ridge of flesh straining against the front of his slacks.

The growl Hotch let out set off delicious vibrations against Emily's flesh. She let out a breathy, "Hotch", that spurred him to action.

Abruptly, he released her breasts, causing her to squeak out a sound of disappointment and then surprise as he suddenly reached for her yoga pants. Emily found herself lying on her back and Hotch was stripping her pants and underwear from her body, yanking off her shoes and socks as her pants came down and off. She let out a soft puff of laughter which died away when she saw how he was looking at her.

Never had a man wanted her so much as he did.

Emily's mouth went dry as she looked up at Hotch hovering above her, kneeling between her legs.

"Perfect," he said in a low tone. "I don't know where I want to start."

Emily propped herself up on her elbows and reached out a hand to caress his chest. "How about you start with letting me undress you?" She tugged gently on his tie.

Hotch grinned at her. "I guess it's only fair," he replied as he settled back as Emily rose up.

With quick fingers, she undid his tie and slowly pulled it off of him. With an impish look, she draped it around her neck. She saw Hotch's eyes darken and his nostrils flare as he watched the red silk snake around her naked breasts. His jaw tightened and she could see he was trying to stop himself from pouncing on her. She grinned at him and reached out to stroke his chest through the cotton of his dress shirt.

"Patience," she purred.

Hotch grunted in faint annoyance, but stayed still as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, each small, plastic disc slipping from the button hole with what felt like agonizing slowness. His shirt was completely unbuttoned and Emily snaked her hands under it to rest on his shoulders. He could feel the heat of her palms as she slid his shirt off, caressing his shoulders and arms as she removed his shirt.

She helped him peel off his white undershirt and his scars were now bare for her examination. Hotch had come to terms with his scars a while ago and they had faded over time. And after all he had said to Emily, he knew he could not show any hesitation in her seeing his old wounds, but he was anxious in regards to her reaction.

Tears filled her eyes as she took in the old nine wounds. Not because she thought they detracted from his beauty, never that. The sight of them simply propelled her back to that dark time when she could not find him and all she had was a blood stained floor. That fear came roaring back with her memories and he saw it all play out on her face.

"When I couldn't find you," she whispered brokenly. "So many things ran through my mind. What would I say to Jack? What would I say to the team? Why didn't I say something sooner?"

"Say something sooner?" he asked quietly, though his heart was beating rapidly. Had she felt something for him for so long?

Emily bit her lip and nodded. She looked up into his eyes. "Why I didn't say something sooner to you about how I felt."

His hand came up to cup her cheek. "And afterwards, when you had the chance, you said nothing."

She shook her head, but Hotch wouldn't allow her to dislodge his hand. He wanted to maintain that physical contact with her and he suspected she needed it too.

"You weren't ready," she replied with a sad smile. "There was so much going on, but you weren't ready to hear that your subordinate was developing feelings for you. I couldn't put that on you. And then when Haley died…"

"You pulled away from me," Hotch said slowly.

"I had to. All I wanted to do was to try to make things better for you, but I was the last thing you needed."

"Maybe you were exactly what I needed," he said quietly. Hotch shook his head when she started to speak. "No, I'm not saying you were wrong to pull away. You're right, I wasn't in a good place and likely would have done something incredibly stupid." He smiled fondly at her and brushed back a strand of hair. "I'm always doing the wrong and stupid thing with you. Accusing you of being Strauss' mole, of playing politics. Then not seeing you for so long. For being stupid in not seeing how you were meant for me." He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. "God, Em, we've wasted so much time. I don't want to waste another second." He moved forward and kissed her, passionately, possessively.

Emily let out a sigh of contentment and her hands moved down to his belt buckle. His hands came down to help her and soon, the rest of his clothes and shoes joined Emily's yoga pants and panties on the floor next to the bed.

Naked for her eyes and her touch, she allowed her hands to move over the planes of his body. His skin was supple and soft, but she could feel the steel of muscle under the benign covering. As her hands explored him, he allowed his to roam over the smooth silk that covered her body. Skin that had tantalized him for years with its porcelain perfection, where he was only allowed fleeting teasing glances, he could now touch and savor every millimeter of it.

They sat on the bed, facing each other, Emily on his lap, straddling his body once again. Her wet core brushed up against his fully erect cock, but they wanted to enjoy this moment, so long it had been in coming to them. With hands and mouths and tongues they explored the other's body, tasting, touching, savoring.

His nose breathed in the scent of the skin on her neck as his lips trailed across her shoulder. Her fingernails lightly scratched across his back as she trailed them down his spine. For so long they had denied themselves any intimacy with each other it was as if they were trying to make up for those lost years in these few moments.

But urgent needs took over and Hotch pulled back slightly. His hands framed her face and he kissed her, urgently, wantonly, conveying to her his needs. "I need to be inside you, Emily," he whispered against her lips.

She whimpered her agreement and lay back against the bed, her dark hair fanning out against the white pillow and sheets. He was still between her legs and shifted until he was in a kneeling position. His eyes dropped down and he looked at the apex of her legs. With careful fingers he slowly parted her folds and gazed upon the wet rosy flesh he had explored earlier with his fingers, but had yet to see.

Perfect, like the rest of her.

He would taste her later, feeling her coming in his mouth as he drank in everything she had to offer, but for now, he needed to be joined with her in a way no other man ever will be again. He placed the tip of his cock at her entrance. His eyes caught hers and without breaking that connection, slowly pushed his way into the tight flesh of her body.

Emily's breath caught in her throat as she felt him enter her. He was much larger than she had anticipated and it had been so long for her, the earlier finger fucking he gave her notwithstanding. Pain began to creep into her body as he pushed more deeply into her. He felt her tense and stopped, his hands moved to caress her.

"Easy, Em, we'll go slow," he murmured, though she heard the barely controlled thread straining to snap.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Emily shifted her hips and he moved abruptly forward causing Hotch to suck in his breath and Emily and bite down on her lip as a flash a pain went through her. As soon as it appeared, it was gone and she felt the waves of pleasure course through her. She murmured something, but he knew she was ready and with infinite care, he thrust into her until he was deep and snug inside of her.

For a moment, he simply held her to him, allowing her to adjust and allowing him to savor the feel of her. Hotch had never felt anything so incredible before. Tight, hot, wet, she was like a second skin around his shaft. He felt her move her hips again and he knew she was ready.

Slowly, he thrust in and out of her and the room was filled with just their soft gasps. Hotch wanted it to go slow, for them to savor each stroke, each gasp like they had during their foreplay as they explored each others' bodies.

But soon, he had to thrust a little harder, a little faster. Emily tilted her hips a little higher, rose to meet him with more force. What precious little control he had snapped and he was grasping her hips in a tight grip as she clawed at his back.

He knew it would be good between them. He had imagined it to be magical, a soft romantic joining between two people who felt so much for each other; something that was almost cliched. But this was something else. It was pure passion, raw, and completely unexpected. The sensations, the feelings, the emotions underlying it all hit him with the force of a freight train and he knew he would bear the marks of it forever long after any physical evidence had faded away. It overwhelmed them both and he was driving madly into her as she met him stroke for hard stroke, whispering hotly into his ear how she wanted him to take her.

Emily gently bit Hotch's earlobe as she whispered for him to take her harder, faster, that it was only him she had ever wanted. She felt him pull her legs up higher and change the angle of his entry as he slammed even deeper into her. Her back arched sharply and she keened wildly. "Oh God, yes, Aaron! There! Harder!"

The use of his name drove him into a frenzy and he would wonder later how they managed not to break the bed. He heard Emily's erratic breathing, her gasping sobs and felt the sweet clenching of her muscles as they fluttered around his cock. She let out a sharp, gasping cry as she hurtled over the edge, her body clamping tightly around him. Three more hard thrusts and he spilled himself into her, his hips moving jerkily, blackness coloring the edges of his vision as he let out a loud, hoarse cry of, "Emily!"

He hadn't realized he had collapsed onto her until a few minutes later when his mind registered her soft breath in his ear. Still he moved languidly, spent from the most intense sexual experience he had ever had. Hotch shifted slightly so he was no longer crushing Emily, but he semi-hard cock remained buried inside of her. He smiled down into her flushed face where a small smile was lingering on her lips.

Slowly, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. "Are you okay?"

"Just trying to…wow," she breathed out. She languidly opened her eyes and gazed up at him. A wealth of emotion were written in those lovely orbs, but the one that made him catch his breath was the loving look she gave him. There was no need for him to doubt what was written in her eyes as her hand came up to gently stroke his cheek. "It was incredible."

He smiled back at her and caught her hand so he could place a kiss on her palm. "You're incredible," he rumbled back, his voice husky from the recent vocalization he had made regarding how incredible he thought she was. His face turned serious. "This isn't something causal or one night, Em. I'm not going to not be here tomorrow morning or the morning after. I want something more, something that has a future. I know you probably still have some uncertainties, but I know we can make it work and because of that, even if you try to pull away, I'm going to still come after you to convince you otherwise."

She blinked up at him in surprise. He was completely serious. _Of course he is_, she thought wryly to herself, _He's Hotch_. "You make it sound like you're pursuing an unsub." A trace of amusement was in her voice.

"Someone even more important," he corrected as he brushed some hair back from her forehead. "Someone I see myself spending the rest of my life with."

Her eyes softened. She was still a little scared. A little apprehensive. How would this work with their jobs? There was also Jack to consider. There was the rest of the team. How could they make this work?

He could see her mind spinning and knew exactly what she was thinking about. He had asked himself the same questions she was raising now. He dropped a kiss on her mouth. Emily responded instantly and he felt his heart contract sharply. He could never lose this, the wonderful feeling of her kissing him, of having her in his arms. He pulled away and smiled at her.

"It won't be easy, but I think together, we can make it work." He stared intently down at her. "Trust me?"

He had asked her back at the studio and she had said she did. Nothing had changed since then and she knew now that her earlier leap of faith had given her courage to make this one and made it easier to do. She smiled up at him and said, "Yes."

His grin was almost blinding and he dropped his head again to kiss her. She moaned as his tongue dueled with hers and he could feel himself wanting her again. They broke the kiss to come up for air. "I've fantasized about this, making love to you, but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be so amazing."

She blushed prettily, but gave him a sly look, an irresistible combination that delighted Hotch. "You had fantasies? About me?"

"Mmmhhmmm," he affirmed in a low growl as he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck and the side of her face. "Many."

"Care to share?" she murmured as she felt him harden inside of her. She began to stroke his back.

"I'll do better. I'll show."

* * *

><p>Derek Morgan walked a little unsteadily down the hallway to his room. He wasn't drunk, but just pleasantly buzzed. After this case, they all needed some time and way to release and forget. As he passed Hotch's room, he heard music and a woman singing,<p>

_The lights are on,_

_But you're not home,_

_Your mind, is not your own._

_Your heart sweats,_

_Your body shakes,_

_Another kiss, is all it takes!_

_You can't sleep,_

_You can't eat,_

_There's no doubt,_

_You're in deep._

Morgan paused and blinked blearily at the door to Hotch's hotel room. Florence and the Machine? He wouldn't have taken Hotch to be a fan. Morgan shrugged. _I must be drunker than I thought_. He continued on his way to his room, opened the door and went in, dismissing the unusual incident of Hotch listening to music produced in the 21st century and playing it loudly as a figment of his inebriated state.

_Oooh, you'd like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah._

_It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough_

_You're gonna have to face it_

_You're addicted to love!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: I just want to point out for those watching Season 7, Hotch was smiling a lot during this season long before that insipid wet blanket came into the picture. And just because I don't like the Triathlon Hussy (thanks greengirl!), doesn't mean I'm anti-Hotch like Erica Messer seems to insinuate. It just means I don't like the Triathlon Hussy. And if they really want to get Hotch smiling, ahem, see above part! ;-)**


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